Ground Control to Major Tom
by scarletalphabet
Summary: Shameless David Bowie chapter/story title stealing. Ziva is hurt on a mission, and Abby is none too pleased. Ziva/Abby mild femmeslash.
1. Ground Control

**Title**: Ground Control to Major Tom

**Characters**: Ziva, Abby, Ducky, Gibbs, Palmer, Tony, McGee

**Pairings**: Ziva/Abby

**Rating: **T

**Summary/Note**: Shameless David Bowie chapter/story title stealing. Ziva is hurt on a mission, and Abby is none too pleased. Written for NFA's Secret Santa fic exchange, 2008.

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**Chapter 1—Ground Control**

"Ground control to Major Tom," Abby said into the speakerphone. "Ground control to Major Tom." She rolled her eyes in frustration and repeated, "Ground control to Major Tom."

Finally she got a response. "What is it Abby?" Gibbs whispered, trying not to alert the suspect that they were tailing him.

"And what's with the David Bowie?" Tony quickly added before Gibbs could tell him not to.

"Not the point Tony," Abby reprimanded, gesturing as if he could see her. She triumphantly thrust a finger into the air and continued, "What is the point.." she briefly paused for dramatic effect before she could almost feel the force of Gibbs's inevitable glare. Grinning slightly she added, "Is that I was able to get DNA off of the hair you found at the crime scene and I ran it through three databases before I got a hit." She clicked her mouse to bring up the photo, as if the team was actually in the lab (who was she to alter tradition after all?), and stated, "A one Jack James Parker."

"Ouch," she heard Tony's voice say in the background. "Enough with the J names already."

"Anything else you can tell us about him Abs?" Gibbs asked. "He could be any one of this group."

"He's short," Abby replied. "Like really short. For a guy. Five foot two."

Gibbs paused, then she overheard him say, "McGee, you're with me, Tony and Ziva go around that way." The sound of footsteps told her they had gone. "Thanks Abs," he said.

"Tell me I'm good Gibbs," Abby near bragged.

She could almost see the wry smile on his face as he replied, "You're good," then hung up.

Abby set to work on other tasks, waiting for what she considered "her" team to return. Two hours later they still hadn't returned, but she wasn't worried. Even just the travel took time, not to mention the precise attention to the details of the mission that were always necessary for success, regardless of the scope or perceived importance of the crime they were investigating. After two more hours and one hurried lunch of some strangely good salad from a fast food place a little niggle of worry started to creep into her mind. Surely at least someone would have come down or called to say they were back, even if they didn't have anything for her to process. However a more rational part of her mind said that maybe they were interrogating someone they caught, or processing them, or were otherwise caught up in the formalities of closing a case and getting it ready for whatever sort of prosecution was to come. Even if something bad had happened to them surely _someone_ would have told her. Right? She calmed herself down and went back to work. Another hour passed, and then the worry came back. Why hadn't anyone called her? She began doubting her self worth. Surely she merited some kind of personal visit or call or e-mail? At this rate she'd even take an impersonal text message. "That's it!" she shouted to the air. "Ducky's got to know something." She marched out of her lab and headed for autopsy. When she got there she screamed in frustration. It was quarantined, lights flashing and all. She paced around in front of it for a minute, before she heard a whoosh of air. The doors had opened. Whatever it was wasn't considered a danger anymore. Nevertheless, and despite her worry and eagerness to get some sort of answer out of Ducky, she strode cautiously into the room.

"It's all clear," Ducky said. "False alarm." He gestured to Jimmy and with a pointed stare added, "Mr. Palmer here was just a little too eager to add some sense of mystery to the mundane."

Abby gave him a quizzical look. She was not quite fluent enough in "Ducky" to be able to understand that.

The autopsy gremlin explained, "I thought it might be something dangerous. But better safe than sorry right?"

"Indeed," Ducky replied. With a good-humoured glare he added, "Do try to be less eager for adventure though. I assure you that the plague is no one's idea of a good time." He walked over to the bin and peeled off his gloves. He turned to Abby and said, "Right then. What brings you here my dear?"

It was a statement to her anxiety that she didn't make a crack about being able to visit a friend. "Have you heard anything from Gibbs?" she blurted out. "I mean it's been hours and hours and they should have been back by now, unless something happened, which I hope didn't happen, but maybe there's a good reason like the mission's just taking longer or they're all doing stupid paperwork or something?"

"Calm down Abigail," Ducky said, though he too was starting to wonder. He was about try and come up with some sort of explanation for the situation, but the phone rang. He picked it up, and instantly Abby was on alert. "Jethro?" Ducky inquired, the rest of his questions unasked but implied. A long pause. "How is she?" he asked. "I see." A shorter pause. "Alright, I shall stay with her until he comes." Another pause. "I am no Lancelot Jethro, I have never slept with the king's wife." He smiled and straightened himself up to his full height. "Perhaps a dashing Sir Galahad?" Ducky raised an eyebrow at whatever Gibbs said in response, and hung up.

"What is it?" Abby asked. "What is it? Who's she? Is that Ziva? What happened? Where are they?"

Ducky saw no need to mince words. "Officer David was wounded, and is currently in the hospital. J—"

Abby interrupted with more frantic questions, which though short she rushed to get out, "Which hospital? Was anyone else hurt?" She turned to leave, intent upon getting there anyway she could.

"Abigail," Ducky barked, calling her back to reality with a sharpness not usually present in his voice.

She snapped back around to him.

"That is what I was trying to say," Ducky said calmly. "No one else was hurt, and Timothy is on his way to fetch you. Jethro knew you would want to see her as soon as possible."

"Oh," said Abby, her mood deflated. "Right then." She held out her arm, and, trying to lighten the mood despite her worries about Ziva, added, "Sir Galahad, care to escort me to the lobby?"

Ducky, cottoning on to Abby's attempt to put on a brave face, went along with it. "Of course fair maiden."

Abby cracked a small smile at that, as Ducky led her up to wait for McGee.


	2. Major Tom

**Chapter 2—Major Tom**

McGee had described what had happened to Ziva as best he could, but Abby only half took it in, wondering what sight awaited her at the hospital. At the desk McGee flashed his badge and asked the nurse, "Has Ziva David been moved?"

"She is still in room 355," the nurse replied. "However I will need to call ahead to inform them you're coming."

Abby was shifting impatiently while the nurse dialed the appropriate person.

"Agent McGee plus one here to see patient # 355," the nurse said. "I'll send them right up," she replied, and hung up the phone. She looked back up at McGee and Abby and informed them, "You can go up now."

As McGee guided Abby to the correct elevator, Abby spun round and stated sternly, "Patient #355 has a name. Ziva."

If the nurse heard it, she didn't respond.

McGee said calmingly, "Easy Abby. Ziva's just a little banged up, she'll be fine."

Abby was silent the whole short elevator ride.

Tony was pacing in the hallway, on the phone to somebody, clearly preoccupied. "Abby," he said with a nod.

Abby burst into Ziva's room, not giving a thought to the possibility that Ziva may be asleep, or may just want quiet, in her eagerness to see her favourite Mossad officer. As she neared Ziva's bed, seeing her lying there pale and covered in bandages she all of a sudden remembered where she was and stopped short. The way she automatically flung out her arms for balance would have been comical if the situation wasn't so serious. Her face betrayed the question she could not bring herself to ask.

"She lost a fair amount of blood," Gibbs stated straightforwardly. "Most from the bullet she took. Some of the crates in the warehouse exploded and she and I took some shrapnel from that as well."

For the first time Abby took a good look at Gibbs, surveying his face and what she could see of his arms and hands. Whatever thought she had of taking Gibbs to task for not keeping her in the loop flew out the window. "Oh Gibbs!" she exclaimed sadly. She rushed over to where he was sitting and gave him a hug, a little more enthusiastically than his sore body appreciated, but he didn't complain.

"It's okay Abs," Gibbs said. "You know Ziva's strong. Doc said she's not going to be in here long anyways, just some rest to let herself heal." He smirked and added, "Though between you and me who wants to bet she'll find a way out of here sooner than advised?"

Gibbs was rewarded with a smile. "Oh she will," Abby agreed. "Probably drive the staff insane within two days." She withdrew from him, and, gesturing to him and McGee, ordered, "Get out."

They both sent her puzzled looks. "What?" McGee asked.

"Girl time Timmy," Abby stated. "No boys allowed. Go get some coffee or something." She followed after them and closed the door behind them. She turned back towards the bed, hands on her hips. She wasn't sure if Ziva was conscious or not, but she wasn't going to let that stop her. "Now Ziva," she lectured. "You are NEVER to do that to me again." The harshness of her words was tempered by the hurt looking pout on her face. She pulled the chair Gibbs had been sitting in over to the side of the bed. Looking at Ziva she was filled with an odd sort of feeling of protectiveness and something approaching, was it, selfishness? Sure Ziva had been in danger before, both before and during her time with NCIS, but something about this was different. The tension caused by the long wait for news had broken something inside her. What if it happened again? She couldn't very well stop any of them from doing their job, and wouldn't if she could, but it seemed impossible to go on as if nothing was amiss. She let words tumble out of her mouth, not worried about coherency with the lack of an audience (besides the hopefully unaware Ziva). "What am I to do with you, huh?" she asked. "I need someone to balance all that testosterone. And as much as you'd probably protest that you're more like one of the guys anyways, I know you're not." She cocked her head, and added, "Well you're not a frilly girl. And thank goodness you're not because I don't know how I'd take that. You wouldn't be half as interesting if you were afraid of getting dirty or always worrying about breaking a nail. But you remember the important little things." She smiled. "I like that." She glanced behind herself, wondering when the guys were going to return. "I'd better finish this up before they get back then huh?" she said. She gently ran a finger along a small cut on Ziva's face. "Wonder if this is going to scar…" she postulated. "Even if it does I wouldn't worry about it. Not that you will, but…it's very you. You're not perfect, and I can't tell you how refreshing that is. Which I guess means you are perfect. For me anyways." She stopped, oddly ashamed of her rambling. Odd as she rarely was ashamed, especially of her feelings. Her chest started to tighten, and she realized that she hadn't taken a single breath through that entire rant.

"You really should breathe," a faint voice said.

Abby breathed in sharply at the shock, not expecting Ziva to come to so soon. She looked at her speechless in happy surprise.

"Mission accomplished, no?" Ziva asked weakly with a bit of a smile.

Abby grinned enormously, replying, "I suppose so." Her face changed instantly as she sternly reprimanded Ziva. "Do NOT make me worry like that again."

"You need me to balance out the testosterone," Ziva stated.

Abby continued, not realizing what Ziva had just said, intent on working up a head of steam to barrel into another rant. "Or else," she threatened, "I will…tie you to my bedpost and not let you out of my sight! And I—" Her brain finally caught up with her ears. "Wait, you were awake for all that?" she asked slowly, knowing what the response was going to be, but refusing to believe it until she heard it.

"You seemed like you had something to get off your chest," Ziva replied in a tone that indicated it would have been accompanied by a shrug of her shoulders if she was physically capable at that moment.

"But you just let me ramble on like that," Abby stated petulantly.

"Think nothing of it," Ziva said, waving it off. "Now what was this about tying me up somewhere?" she added teasingly.

"I didn't mean like sexually," Abby explained. She minutely cocked her head as if considering something and continued, trying to save the conversation, "Anyhow. When you get out of here—"

"That would not be so bad," Ziva said softly, matter-of-factly considering the situation in light of Abby's recent revelations. "Though I think I have been tied up far too many times in worse circumstances to enjoy it."

Abby's brain came to a screeching halt at Ziva's words yet again. "What? You mean?"

"I think that I will need some help when I get out of here, yes?" Ziva stated.

Abby grinned. She was about to respond when the door opened loudly and a nurse strode in.

"Visit's over, sorry," the nurse stated, though she didn't seem very sorry. "Doctor's coming in to assess her, and then she needs to sleep."

Abby glared at the back of the nurse, muttering under her breath, "Just when we were _finally_ getting somewhere."

Ziva smirked a bit at Abby's reaction to the intrusion.

Abby sent her a look meant to communicate that they'd talk later, and left the room with a bounce back in her step that had been noticeably absent when she had arrived.


End file.
